Plumpness

21 Mar 2010

I'm convinced I'm getting fat.

Now, I don't have much to back up that assertion apart from the fact that I'm feeling generally more squidgy than I did before. I still fit the same jeans, but I'm having trouble with a few of my favourite waistcoats, which suggests to me that although my limbs are static my torso is slowly enlarging to inconvenient proportions.This is not good, since if it continues I will probably end up looking like Humpty Dumpty.

At the same time I'm creeping up on 12 stone. For the last few years I've been hovering on 11. Where did this stone come from? Have I been eating rocks? Have my bones fossilised before death?

This must stop. I was always a skinny person. It's written through me like Blackpool rock, except now it seems that someone's wrapped the rock up in a few layers of candy floss and added some toffee from the toffee apple machine.

Well, actually what they've added is beer.

It's the downside of being sociable in Britain. For the last few weeks I've been accepting almost every social invitation I've received (there's a good reason for that, but I won't trouble you with it now). Unfortunately, most of these invites are not to the cinema or the theatre or anything else that doesn't involve sloshing back vast quantities of the devil's brew. They're mostly to the pub.

So I'm feeling a bit like Superman might feel if, because he was a bit lonely being the last of his kind and all, his friend kept inviting him down the Kryptonite Bar. Or kept inviting Samson down the hairdressers' for a natter. Thinness was my only superpower, unfortunately, and age will take it away soon enough without the Reverend James adding to it. Not that I didn't need the pints at the time.

Well, I've fixed my bike, and a week in a training course with 3 hours' homework a night has kept me away from the alehouses, and I'm probably going to do the Swimathon this year, and the cricket season is round the corner... there's hope yet. I might just avoid plumpness. For now.